


Tea Time Pt. 1

by DefiledCinephile



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Ass Play, Desk Sex, Finger Sucking, Foot Fetish, Getting to Know Each Other, Hand Feeding, Human Furniture, Humiliation, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Service Submission, Sharing, Spanking, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiledCinephile/pseuds/DefiledCinephile
Summary: When Alex tries to convince Greg to take on the role of Taskmaster, he expresses one very specific concern which must be addressed first.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Tea Time Pt. 1

He looks at the screen, sneers, and swipes to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hi – uh – hi, is this Greg Davies?”

“It is…” He croons, mocking such a shy opener.

“Hi Greg! This is Alex – uh, Alex Horne? I’m not sure if you remember me at all but we spoke a few months back about you being my first choice for the host role of Taskmaster - it’s this show I've been working on and you said you'd consider it if it ever got green lit, and well, it did! So I'm just calling to remind you that there is _really_ no one as perfect for – I think you are just so genuinely ama - you're still the only man I want sitting in that throne. I would like to officially offer you the role – I mean, if you're even still interested that is –"

Exasperation edging in, Greg interrupts him. “Alex! Of course I remember our conversation. And your concept for the show. And you. And of course I’m still - _interested_. Not exactly something I’d soon forget, just- slow down a little.” He chuckles lightly, “Take a fucking breath, yeah.”

“Sorry. I'm just so excited about it all.”

“As you should be! This could be really huge for you, Alex, for me too - _if_ I decide to take you up on –"

“If … ?” Alex exhales anxiously.

“I have a few questions - as to how certain things you described to me would work exactly. _If_ … or when those concerns have been satisfactorily addressed, _by_ _you_ , then yeah fuck I’ll be the host, the Taskmaster.”

“Well, what things exactly because I could just clarify any concerns you had right n-"

“I should be more specific. I have _one_ concern, but it’s kind of a big one. I think your concept for the show is absolutely fucking brilliant, it’s already a proven success live on stage and your ideas for the tasks themselves seem endlessly imaginative. You know I've seen almost all your shows over the years, Alex, and it’s really no secret that I think _you’re_ genuinely amazing. Honestly, I have every confidence in you.”

“Wow Greg, you have no idea how much that – really, thank you so much.”

“Far as I can see the only problem lies with _us_. And the on set dynamic you described.”

“The dynamic?” Alex asks with an air of ignorance.

“Yes, Alex, the on set dynamic between us, which you described to me at length. _In_ _detail_?” There is a long, gaping pause that Alex is tempted to fill before Greg finally says, “Now, we don’t really know each other you and I, not really, and definitely not in the way these characters you've crafted _so_ _require_ …"

“I just know it’ll work, Greg. I'm not sure how to convince you exactly, but it’s going to be great. You're going to be great! We could improv it a bit beforehand or we can just let it build up over time or - ”

“Are you all by yourself at the moment?”

Alex is startled by his sudden shift in tone, and answers with a hesitant, “yes...”

“I’m coming over. Text me the address. If I like what I see, then I sign. Simple as that.” Click.

Alex fumbles with his phone and texts him the address. Greg’s, almost immediate response, leaves him momentarily frozen in place; confusion and excitement clouding his usually hyper-focused mind:  
**I'll be there within the hour.**  
**But I won’t be the Greg you met.**  
**I'll be the Greg you wrote for on set.**  
**I expect the same of you.**  
**Prepare yourself, Alex Horne.**

Two strong knocks and Alex wheels the door open to welcome him. “Greg! Please, come in.” One arm outstretched, head slightly bowed in an overly dramatic gesture he sidesteps to allow Greg’s entry. He smiles timidly, “You look great.” And shuts the door.

“Thank you, Alex. You weren’t just standing by the door waiting f – never mind. You got my text, yeah?”

“Umm, yes. So, you'd just like to improv the dynamic a bit first? See what works, get to know each other a bit better and that sort of thing?”

“Improv it a bit, sure. I mean, improv, roleplay, there’s really not much difference is there? Tell me, am I remembering your description _wrong_ , Alex? I mean, we are meant to heavily imply to the audience that there’s some kind of weird, kinky, master-slave type thing going on between us, right?”

Alex is taken slightly aback, “It’s more of a boss and his assistant type thing.”

“Sadist. Masochist.” Greg sneers cheekily.

Alex begins to blush, “What – no that’s – I was thinking more just alpha, beta.”

“So, I'm a tyrannical top and you're my bottom bitch, is that it?” He smiles to suppress a laugh, it soon fades. “Not a far stretch thus far.”

“Well - ”

“Here.” He thrusts several items toward Alex. “Bit of a last minute congratulations. Homemade raspberry jam, the last jar of my best batch ever, highly prized stuff here – and some biscuits, now I didn’t make these but they’re from a good local shop, to have with the jam. I trust you have butter?”

“Never without it.” His hands now full. “Thank you, Greg, really you didn’t have to - I'll be right back, just let me plate these up. I’ve put a pot of coffee on, can I pour you a cup?”

“I’ll have a tea.”

“Sure. Okay, that’s one coffee, one tea. Coming up. Um – please, make yourself at home.” He makes it as far as the hallway before calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, how do you take it?”

“Milk. And just a little bit of sugar.” Greg says whilst already beginning to survey his surroundings.

Alex flicks on the kettle and throws a bag in a mug. He pours some cream into his own, grabs the carafe and sloshes coffee up to the brim. He gets out the milk, sugar and a spoon and leans both elbows on the countertop staring at the kettle. He sips at his mug with no hands until it’s at a safer liquid level to pick up. Eyes full of curious wonder shift to the other room.

The room was fairly small, but Alex had really made it his own. Plastered across the surface of the entrance wall were a series of family photographs along with, what he assumed, were the artistic endeavours of his children. On a small side table his keys lay alongside a beautiful photograph of his wife. Greg smiled a melancholic smile. In the far, dimly lit corner he spied a large, wooden worktable, but instead he was drawn towards a small circular table bathed in the light of the room’s only window and dotted with small succulents and a bonsai tree.

Greg is startled by the familiar vibration of a cell on silent, but it isn’t his. He leans across the table to sneak a peek, Alex’s phone is tucked behind the bonsai, the screen lit up to display MISTRESS CALLING. MISTRESS CALLING. Greg's wide eyes dart to the hallway where Alex had disappeared down. He is struck by a series of conflicting emotions, takes a few quick steps back to put some distance between himself and the screen, but bumps into the side of a small bookshelf. He is at once filled with disgust and intrigue.

Upon first meeting Alex Horne, Greg had quite rightly assumed him to be highly submissive, but he had also presumed a certain level of repression which had now been proven false. After spending just a few short moments with this man he found it extremely hard to believe he would ever cheat on such a lovely looking family. His blood boiled at the very thought, of having that, forming that with someone and not cherishing it.

The kettle clicks off with the familiar sound of the boil. He sets a timer for four minutes, which he hopes will be enough time for this tea to brew and for him to calm both his breathing and brain. He halves two biscuits, dishes up a small bowl of butter with a knife, pops the top on the jam and plunges a small spoon into its seedy depths. The timer goes off. Bag is tossed aside. Milk goes in. He dips the spoon in the sugar and adjusts the amount multiple times before finally settling and stirring.

Meanwhile, Greg has been perusing the shelves, running his fingers across a few familiar titles, scrutinizing others, his rage being slowly tempered by a devilish curiosity, a strong desire to dig deeper into this discovery. A thoroughly weathered copy of Venus in Fur catches his eye first, it’s been cheekily sat alongside the collected works of the Marquis de Sade. His eyes skim across a few other saucy titles: The Image, The Story of O, The Piano Teacher. “I’m sensing some real strong themes here, Alex.” Greg's deliberate choice of words hits his ears harshly as he returns from the kitchen, mugs and tray in hand.

Alex gulps back his nerves. “Oh – uh - I have my - particularities.” He sets the tray down with hands beginning to quake, and just manages the mugs before anything spills.

“Particularities, hmm? Yeah, some might say perversities, pal.”

“Some might. Do you mind that?”

His eyes travel lasciviously from feet to face. “Not particularly,” he purrs as he takes a seat at the table. Alex follows suit. Greg smiles, those unblinking blues are alive, electric, penetrating. Alex averts his own in a vain attempt to regain his, now crumbling, composure. “Your phone went off.”

He checks it quickly, “Sorry, I’ve just got to - I'll be really quick, sorry, it’ll just take a sec – Hi love, I know I apologize – it was just sort of a last minute thing but - ” he takes a few steps away and lowers his voice but Greg can still hear him quite clearly, “Greg dropped by - to have a meeting about – yeah, I know – thanks, I hope so too – so you'll grab the kids then, I should only be a couple of hours late, okay? Love you Rach - hmm? – oh yes please that sounds wonderful. Thank you Mi - ” he whispers, “Thank you, Mistress.”

He returns to the table, much calmer, Greg notes, and with a sheepish smile. "Did I get you into any trouble?” Greg masks the relief he feels upon hearing Rachel's name, pretending not to have picked up on the more intimate parts of their conversation.

“Oh, no.” A low, nervous laugh echoes from somewhere strange within, staring deep into his coffee, he musters, “You know Greg, it really means so much to me that you're even here. Even considering working with me on this. You have this confidence, this way about you that I could never even come close to faking – you have this – I don’t know – aura of authority, I guess, that I just can’t bring to the table and this show needs that, desperately. I've been a big fan, since Klang and your Edinburgh shows – the way you carry yourself on stage – it’s the perfect mix of cruelty and charisma – you just can't teach that – and - you're quite - _mysterious_.” Alex manages to look up from his beverage. “I realize I'm only basing all this off a bunch roles I’ve seen you play and I know we don’t actually know each other so sorry if this sounds overly friendly but I feel like people get a sense of the real you seeping through those roles. You have this way of melding the two seamlessly, people still believe in the character but also we get this meta sense of watching the real you too, it sounds strange, but that’s exactly what we need for this show - you.”

Takes a sip of tea, “That’s really sweet.” Greg eyes seem to smile, defying his lips. Alex’s cheeks flush.

“Sweet enough that you might be ready to sign - ”

“What?” Greg furrows his brow. “I meant the tea, Alex.” Takes another sip and winces. “Yeah, _way_ too sweet, actually.” Slowly, he begins to pour the contents of the cup onto the floor. He locks eyes with Alex and chastises, “I mean, come on, I did use the words _little_ _bit_ , yeah? Taste that and then tell me there’s not too much sugar.” The tiles splash with the last remaining drops from the cup. Alex watches in stunned silence. “Well!?”

“Sorry, what – Greg, I'm not sure I know … ”

“I _said_ taste the tea.” He growls, in a matter of fact fashion.

Alex reaches for the cup and is met with Greg’s good-humoured derision, “No, no, no.” He indicates toward the puddle at his feet. “Go on.”

Alex is surprised by how quickly his body reacts to Greg’s tone, his gaze. It did strike him as odd that it all felt so natural despite the unfamiliar circumstances. Stranger still was the fact that he could feel himself becoming very aroused as he bent his head to lap up little licks of the tile tea.

“And how would you describe it, Alex?”

“It’s sweet, far too sweet, Greg.”

Neither speaks for a long moment.

Greg begins to hear Alex's breathing grow heavy, quite audibly erratic, “I’d probably go grab some paper towels if I were you.” He slowly gets to his feet. Eyes half glazed with desire he turns back toward the kitchen. Greg’s voice brings him to a halt, “Oh, and another cup of tea,” Alex takes the cup from his extended fingers, “and let’s get it right this time, hmm.”

As Alex retreats into the kitchen Greg gives himself a quick once over, polishes up his shoes with the cuff of his sleeve and then rolls them up slightly. He dips into the puddle at his feet and splashes some of the tea onto the leather. He looks back to the doorway, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Alex’s phone vibrates again, and Greg, quite confidently this time, leans over to read the text:  
**MISTRESS: Good luck with Greg. I expect only the best of behaviour from my little boy, or else we may have to add to that punishment we just discussed.”**

He lets out a guttural noise of pure, unfettered excitement and quickly adds the number into his phone. Momentarily conflicted he bites at his lip, scrunches his face and looks to the hallway before a much more mischievous smile takes over and he begins to type like a mad man. His phone start to vibrate. Thumbs dance. Another vibration. On and on. His smirk was, not the only thing he noted, continuing to steadily grow.

The timer goes off. Alex throws away the bag, pours in the milk and sprinkles in the sugar, slowly this time, even deciding to throw some back into the bowl at the last second. He stirs it, uses the same spoon to taste, and then nods at it, assuring himself as to its accuracy. He lets out a long, measured breath, grasps the cup and, paper towel roll under arm, makes his way back through the hallway.

Greg observes Alex closely as he approaches, returning in a noticeably more servile state than before he sets the cup down with a gentle ease, “I think I got it right this time, Greg.”

He slides his phone off to the side and shifts to cross his legs, “You _think_?” Shame flashes across Alex's features as he bends down to wipe up the puddle at his feet. “Don’t miss a drop, now,” he chides.

The paper towels make short work of the puddle, though Greg can sense Alex dragging out the motions a little longer than necessary. Alex's eyes focus in on the few droplets dotting Greg's shoes and suddenly he is no longer able to control his baser tendencies. The humiliation of his current position is starting to fuck with his head, he's torn between keeping this within the realm of harmless improv and pushing for something he wants much more keenly. Wanton impulse finally wins out, “May I ummm, Greg, could I just - ”

Greg smiles to himself, wordlessly understanding the insinuation, “If you must.” Alex immediately licks up the drops with a deft tongue, his breathing completely ragged by this point. Greg takes a sip of his tea and sighs, “Absolute perfection.”

Long, lingering licks of the leather.

“Alright, that’s quite enough, you greedy little boy. Come on, sit up.” Alex moves from all fours into a kneeling position and Greg pushes him further away by pressing the sole of his shoe into his chest. Eyes frenzied and fearful. “You know you really are doing a good job at convincing me that this'll work, Alex. I _really_ like seeing you like this, so many people are going to, and more and more I think,” Greg stands, Alex shrivels, “you really _are_ this, aren’t you? We're not improvising anything here because you're simply pretending this isn’t who you already are. That’s why you need someone like me, hmm, to help you understand what you really are.” He takes a step forward, looming over him. Feet on either side of Alex's hips, he leers, “Just so small.” Greg steps onto Alex’s outstretched hand and presses some of his body weight into it watching for his facial reactions, “Weaker than. Begging to be humiliated. Stepped on. Destroyed, by a real man.” Alex bites at his lip but otherwise does not register any of the wonderful, awful pain. “Yeah … Getting to know each other a bit better now, aren't we? I'm certainly learning many _interesting_ things about you.” He moves his foot to press firmly into Alex’s now quite visible erection. “Why are you getting hard, Alex? You know I see what you’re really up to here, with me, with this show. You must think you’re pretty clever, hmm? You thought I’d fallen right into your trap, but fuck, turns out you’ve fallen into mine – yeah … I see right through you, _Alex_ _Horne_. I see it. And I can fucking feel it. _You_ _need_ _me_.”

Greg walks back over to his chair. “Come. Sit down with me and have your coffee before it gets cold.” Dazed (and still rather confused), Alex manages to get to his feet, staggers toward the table and pulls out the chair. “Not there. Over here, with me.” Greg indicates and Alex, his coffee clutched with both hands, oozes down next to his leg on the floor; a new puddle in place of the one he had just cleaned up. Greg has a sip of tea and sighs with satisfaction, he strokes Alex’s hair and holds his head against his knee. “Such a sweet little boy.” Alex stiffens. His hand appears clutching Alex's phone. “I believe you received a text.”

He takes the phone apprehensively, reads the text, “Um, Greg ... How did you - ?”

“Would you like to try a bit of your present?” Greg holds a generous bite of biscuit, topped with a pat of butter and smothered in jam, just millimeters from his lips.

“Have you been – did you just – sorry, but this has definitely just gone past impr- ?”

“Open up, Alex.” Deeply ashamed at his lack of self restraint he indulges himself. Sweet. Sour. With the salty finish of Greg’s fingers. It was – _everything_. He can’t hold back the noises of exasperated ecstasy that escape him. “That good, hmm?”

He nods nervously, his mouth still rather full, he manages a, “Thank you for my present, Greg. Your jam is delicious - definitely the star of the show.”

“Then you'll _definitely_ want to try just the jam, then.” A two fingerful scoop of raspberry jam is slaked into his still open mouth. “Mmm, yeah, it’s so good, innit?” Massaging it along his tongue. “I see how you were trying to steer me just now with all that star of the show bullshit, am I going to be the raspberry jam of Taskmaster?” Greg teases, probing his fingers deeper until he hears a chuckling choke, Alex licks and sucks more enthusiastically having been found out. “Well I don’t know about you Alex, but for me, this dynamic you devised is obviously working.” He slips fingers from lips.

“I’d have to agree with you, Greg.” Drunk on jam, and those fingers, Alex rests his head against his knee, finally relaxing into whatever this was going to be. Greg finishes his tea.

He grasps Alex by the hair and tilts his head until he looks him directly in the eye. He wipes some stray jam from along Alex's lower lip and sucks it off his finger with a seductive sigh. “Go fetch whatever you need me to sign. Let’s make this thing official, yeah.”

Alex beams. Quickly gets to his feet and jogs into the next room. Greg stands from his chair.

He returns a moment later and lays the contract on the worktable in the darkened corner of the room. Just as he is about to turn and switch on the nearby lamp he feels Greg’s body press into his, keeping him firmly facing forward. Slowly, but forcefully he molds Alex into his own table using his back as his new reading surface. He places the paper neatly just below his shoulder blades and flicks on the lamp, “Mmm, yeah first things first, just gonna need to give this a good once over.”

“Uh - Greg?”

“Shhh…” Greg whispers, “I’m reading.” A long moment elapses before he slides into a position which sandwiches Alex's whole body against the table. His hands dragging gently up the backs of his thighs. Gravelled voice hot in his ear. “Alright, Alex, I'm all ready to sign on your little dotted line. There’s just two things I need from you before I do, okay. The first one is easy, the second, I suspect – is going to be harder for you.”

“I’ll do my best but - ”

“First!” Greg barks, returning to his standing position, hips digging into Alex's ass enough for him to feel his reciprocal arousal. “I need a pen.” Alex instantaneously reaches out in front of him to snatch the closest one and then wrenches his arm back behind him, extending it to Greg with grace.  
“Very good.” He sets the pen alongside the papers on Alex's back. “Secondly, and more seriously - I need you to reveal your ulterior motive here.” Alex's mind reels, but words don’t form. “You wouldn’t be confessing to anything I don’t already know, I simply want to hear you admit it, yeah.”

“Greg what are we – what are you – I don’t understand.”

“Don’t give me that shit! You know perfectly well what I mean. Just look at you. So fucking compliant.” Greg walks around to the other side of the table and kneels down until their eyes are level. “It’s not just a character for you, is it Alex? Are you trying to hide your humiliation kink in plain sight with all this stuff? I mean, how many people do you actually think you’re going to fool – certainly not me. Is that why you chose me, Alex? Why am I the only one you approached to be the Taskmaster? Is it my cruel charisma or do you just plain fancy me, is that it? You know, you were quite chatty on the phone earlier, and now, hardly a peep. Sometimes it’s just too hard to say the actual words out loud hmm isn’t that right, Alex? Forming whole sentences can be so hard when you’re just - all flustered and embarrassed. Is our little meeting going how you imagined it?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “No.”

“But you are enjoying all this?”

“Yes,” he uttered breathlessly.

“Good, good.” He stands, returns to his previous position. Alex begins to get a sense for the sheer size of Greg's massive erection as he begins to aggressively dry hump him. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure you out, Alex? That I'd just read whatever you wrote for me, do whatever you told me and never question your motives? Are you trying to top me from the bottom with this show, just a little bit – do you think?”

“Maybe a little, Greg. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Greg pulls away and takes two steps back. Alex does not move. “You're about to get everything you’ve been asking for. Drop your trousers for me, Alex.” It was hard in his current position but he successfully struggles his way out of them without moving too much from his table pose. It was far from elegant but Greg appreciated the effort. “Oh, I am really enjoying the pink pants.” Alex shudders and the pen rolls from the small of his back to the floor, he cringes. “But _oh_ _no_ , _uh-oh_ , what else have we dropped?”

“The pen.”

“The pen. And what do you suppose we do about that?”

“Not sure, Greg.”

“Lucky for you, I do.” He picks up the pen from the floor, reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves a piece of paper and a large red craft marker. He places the blank sheet on the table in front of Alex, uncaps the marker and places it in Alex’s hand. Utter confusion is slowly replaced by a look of guilty arousal. “I have a contract of my own, but you’ll have to transcribe it for me. I belong to Greg Davies.” As Alex begins to write a strong hand makes contact with his ass cheek. The marker jumps slightly. “I want legible handwriting, Horne. I belong to Greg Davies. I am his partner, his pet and his personal plaything.” Each P was marked by increasingly stingy spanks spread across the same cheek. “Good. Now sign the bottom for me.” Alex can feel Greg signing the contract on his back, the pen in tandem with his own. One final spank on the other cheek sets Alex's mind alight.

Greg walks back around again, places his signed contract alongside Alex's red scribbled page and tilts his chin up so they are again face to face. “You okay?” He asks comfortingly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Alex gives him a meaningful nod. “You do understand what I mean by this?” He taps at Alex’s trembling red letters. Another nod. He picks up the sheet and holds it out to Alex, “Read it to me then.”

“I belong to Greg Davies. I am his partner, his pet and his personal plaything.” Breathy and desirous.

He touches the real contract, “On set.” He touches the handwritten one again, “Off set. Alex, last chance here, yeah,” he pushes the real contract closer to him and holds Alex's handwritten one between thumb and forefinger ready to rip up if need be, “I’ve already signed to be on your show, I’m so fucking excited, I will not go back on that. So it's entirely up to you, Alex, are we just improv-ing here, was this all just the characters for you or… ? There’s nothing holding you in this position, you can simply stand up if you wish. I won’t go any further and I won’t think any less of you. Just say the word and a will rip this up and I won’t think twice about what has happened because we were just playing around, right?”

There is a long pause. And then, with a submissive sureness, “No, thank you Greg, you're quite right – this is who I am, if anyone is acting here it certainly isn’t me. You did – you do - you see right through me.”

“Good. As long as we understand each other.” He places the handwritten one over top of the real contract. And makes his way back to his position behind Alex. “Now, I’d like to hear you repeat those lines. Eloquently. And with conviction. Until I come.” He strips off the pink pants.

“Uh, Greg but –“

“Stop squirming! “ A shout that jars Alex’s senses is punctuated by Greg’s firm grip holding him in place. His voice then switches from sinister to swoon and the sharp contrast is almost enough to send Alex right over. “Recite it for me, while I give my new _property_ a thorough inspection,” he smirks to himself as Alex’s body relaxes under the repetition and crushing weight of Greg's upper half. A few moments pass, Greg's fingers on a steady exploration narrated by Alex on repeat, those P words and the sting of those spanks burning his brain.

Alex can feel his cock start to pulsate and cheekily he decides to go a little off script. Greg’s hands dip under his shirt, raking over hard nipples, down his back, hips, over his ass. “I belong to Greg Davies. I am his partner, his pet, his plaything and his personal property.” Greg stops. And Alex immediately fumbles for, “Sorry. I just thought – it slotted in so well with the other pretty P words you chose – I couldn't help myself – "

“No, I actually genuinely enjoyed the adlib there Alex. What other pretty P words can clever boys come up with I wonder hmm? I'll start you off with my favourite one.” He can sense Greg take a knee behind him. He snickers, “Punishment.” Capping the t with a shot of hot spit that landed bullseye on Alex’s asshole.

Greg slides his phone along the table so he can read it. He scrolls for him. “Another pretty, perfect P.”

**GREG Hi Rachel. I'm here with your little boy, in fact he’s just been lapping at a puddle by my feet. Apologies, afraid I got your number by illicit means. Was wondering if I might ask you a rather forward question?**  
**MISTRESS Greg! I’ve heard so much about you. What can I do for you? Or is it more about what other somethings my service slut there might be available to do for you? Has he been licking your boots yet?**  
**GREG Funny, that was actually next on that desperate fuck's agenda. I'd really like to play around with these characters Alex has crafted, wanted to check in with the boss to see what may be off the table. If you have any rules Rachel, I'd like to obey those.**  
**MISTRESS I appreciate the etiquette, Greg, but, for you? Permission granted on the full smorgasbord that is my sweet little boy. He's all yours, just please, return him in one piece.**  
**GREG Let’s you and I get together for a tea later in the week and we can discuss all the sordid details. Something tells me we should probably get to know each other better.**  
**MISTRESS Enjoy him. On me. Until that tea …**

After he was sure Alex had read it all he backtracked a little and zoomed in on one phrase. “What do I have, Alex?”

Stutters, with bated breath, “Per-permission.”

“On what, exactly?”

“The full smorgasbord, Greg.”

He giggles with glee as he grasps Alex's now rock hard cock and roughly crushes it against the table using his palm, “P also stands for!?”

“Pain.” Alex moans.

“Good.” Greg uses two fingers to gently massage Alex's now well-lubed hole.

“And pleasure,” Alex squeaks.

Greg lets out a low, amused growl, “May have earned yourself a bonus point with that one.” He stands.

Alex hears his zipper, then the thud of his belt hit the floor. “Can you remember the last line of that text I sent you?” He matches his hands over the welts he’d left on Alex's ass earlier. He can feel Greg stroking his cock methodically behind him.

“Mm-hmm.” He nods slightly.

“Yeah, you do. I think it was something like - prepare yourself, _little_ Alex Horne.” He feels the tip of Greg’s cock teasing his hole. “There’s just one last pretty P word that I'd like to hear before I proceed, so… Princess Pink Pants, any _predictions_?”

“Please?!”

“Precisely,” he leans across his back, lips brushing his ear with a husky humour, “my perverse little pal.”

Greg slams home to the hilt.


End file.
